


Melodies and Desires

by anoetic



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: M/M, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anoetic/pseuds/anoetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love is the harmony, desire is the key. Love is the symphony, now play it with me."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Melodies and Desires

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Lykke Li's, "Melodies and Desires."   
> Reviews are appreciated and encouraged, thank you!

The pitch of this chord is the familiar background noise of our lives. The first note of this melody is proceeded in the learned frailty of his fingers swept against the open palm of my hand, the screenplay of desire pressed flat against my skin, tattooing his affection for me. The frenetic rhythm of our performance is accented on the third beat of his declaration for me which urges us to look at each other as more than just blood and brothers, but as love in its most intimate form, as the most beautiful collection of stardust that the universe had ever blessed us with. He steps forward, prayer exuded from every pore in his being, all echoing the glory of my name, a forever note strummed just for him because these lungs were created to sing for his pleasure alone.

His hand graces the shell of my cheek and the softness of his caress fills me with torrents of butterflies because it is only through the feeling of Tom do I know the meaning of salvation and this makes my heart sigh delicately, heart strings glittering with unwashed regret. I look at him once to let him know that I am present, I am here in this room with him and soon I will be in him like he will be in me, we in us, us in we, a weighty, blissful wild field of orgasms and kept adoration all pooling from the crowns of our heads to the soles of our feet. His thumb grazes my lip and it naturally parts in honor of his majesty and I allow myself to savor him. My eyes close in hedonistic glee, boy frame made of feathers and birdsong, all mirroring the resonance of my love for my brother whose other hand is casually weaving through my hair, trailing lost stars and infatuation into my roots.

This is one of the countless ways that we have learned to say “I love you.”

Tom pulls his thumb away, seeing as he has nearly prepared me for yet another night in Heaven. With a stillness that I have waded through and committed to memory, he cups my face in his hands and kisses me, flesh and metal faithfully married against one another and I have never realized a greater ecstasy than this. The butterflies give birth to hushed violins and they tune themselves to the key of our lips pressed together, spider’s silk of saliva and sex frothing in our mouths, words unsaid and words never said all tragically, wonderfully meshed together in the communion of our lips stitched together, forgiveness burning on the tips of our tongues. The violins in my head serenade my thoughts into a child like reverie, inducing a catatonic state of Eden stirring between my ribs, my hands desperately, crudely groping for Tom’s in the darkness of our kiss, my breath nearly trapped in his throat when his fingers travel downward toward the sweetest part of me, I moan into the roof of his mouth, hotness and desire spilling between my teeth as my body naturally collapses into the palm of his hand, becoming his finest treasure and he smirks against my lip, hard chest swelling with an obtuse excitement, fingers now tiptoeing along the bulge in my jeans. “Oh God...”

Tom shushes me quickly with the crush of his lips against mine, a bittersweet reunion that I wished would last until the world stopped breathing. Passion waves of butterflies surge through every nerve, alighting the skeleton keys of my bones with a booming roar that bled for Tom, only Tom. His other hand seeks mine in the shadows of our foreplay and seizes it. He breathes life into my mouth and guides me to our bed, our peaceful Palace. Not once did I open my eyes for the illusion was much too magnificent, a heady purple haze constructed of the whites of his eyes, a tender Heaven that was born of nothing but the unmatched bravery of his love for me and the safety of his kiss. I was not aware of it at the time, but my brother was creating Paradise. In almost symbolic gestures, he prompts me to lay down, my body unconsciously unraveling, like a book of petals underneath his fantastic power. My heart weeps when I watch him above me, gaze meeting mine, memory waves of infatuation beating down on us, blessing us for we have just entered the gates of Heaven and once again I am reminded of the first season of our love, of the timid, boys’ choir of desire that haunted us in our sleep, that kidnapped us and swallowed our hearts, segregating us from the homeland of our morality only to later bind us together, fusing our bones into something much more real, something far more tragic, but so much greater.

To be naked in front of my brother, as if I am born again, life still drenched in the color of the womb, but still so very _alive_ , was freedom. In the nakedness of our love we found absolute freedom and where we found freedom, we found each other. Tom still towers over me, but his strength has softened and when he leans down to crown my forehead with an angel kiss, I know that he loves me. “Hold on tight, okay?” I nod my head and my eyes are open now, imprints of vanishing galaxies streaking across my vision as he seats himself between my legs, hands planted on the undersides of my thighs and suddenly I realize that he is going to fuck me and I also realize that I want him to. The rage of my fire for him is silently pleading him to fuck me hard, fuck me so hard that the violins playing in my head become little else but white noise. I want my brother to fuck me so hard that my voice can scream no other name but Tom’s.

I want him to fuck me so hard that I will forget that I have a miserable jumble of hurt for a body, that I have hands that ache, thoughts that burn. I want him to fuck me so hard that I am nothing but a quivering, screaming boys’ parade of happiness and pleasure made of only Tom. I want to be fucked so good that I know and feel nothing but Tom. I want to feel nothing but his sounds, the frantic, stunted vibrato of exhaustion marred with exhilaration when he is balls deep in the prettiest part of me. I want to be the thundering, shuddering earthquakes of sensation that devour every inch of him, stretching myself around every nerve and muscle in his proud body, painting his face in a love shade of red and me. I want to be the orgasm that shoots through his limbs when he has loved me in the way that I deserve.

He pushes inside of me, heat waves dappled with pain ripple through my system and I grit my teeth, crushing diamonds. The final movement of our duet begins here and I watch Tom through cloudy lids, wordlessly thanking the universe for gifting me with the most precious collection of stardust that it could ever create. “I need you,” I pant to him, heart budding into one million carnations. Tom nods his head, slowly slipping out before he is deep inside of me again and I hiss through my teeth, brick walls of pleasure slammed into me and as tears begin to well in my lids, I feel his shadow wreathed into mine. The circle is now complete as he tries to slink his sweaty fingers betwixt my own, enclosing our love and furthering the haloed fusion of blood and bone. I look up at Tom as the harmony of our dance steadily blossoms into strange perfection, my breathing growing erratic as his thrusts become more confident, more powerful, more destructive and I moan happily for him, letting my hands drape themselves onto the shorelines of his back, nails racking slick skin.

He utters my name and my chest nearly bursts with butterflies, all beating their wings against my rib cage, hungry to feed on his sweetness. The sound of my name becomes something erotic, and I praise my brother with the tired push of my hips against his dick, eyes practically sinking into the back of my head. When Tom says my name this way, with the panicked, fever laced quickness of his tongue as he becomes breathless from the thought of me, I come to understand that the love Tom has for me is poetic. He curses between his teeth, bowing his head and honoring his sins as he smashes his lips against mine, wetness and urgency bleeding between our mouths and I moan for him loudly, impatience overlapping with the severity of our bodies clashing together. I squeeze my thighs harshly together so that I can become the orgasm that eats him alive. He groans in steady reply, acknowledging my desire and he lets me dissolve into the trunk of his chest, my bones condensing into stardust and crystal white pleasure, the only reality that I know. I beg for him through dreamy lids, ripe constellations made of Tom tinting my vision and when he listens to me, ramming into the trembling mass of boy bones that was my body, I feel the whispers of an orgasm settling between my legs.

“T-Tom,” I pant, flowers of infatuation toppling out of my mouth and onto the earth of his skin. “I-I’m going t-to…” “Not without me,” he breathes out and I had never loved him more than I did in that moment. I whine for him pitifully, my throat straining from shouting the praises of his name for too long. My head begins to simmer and the room dissipates into nothing but twin bodies, the crazed symphony of skin glued to skin, a transparent melody that clung to us, ushering us into this brave, new world that only we could know. “I-I’m almost,” I gasp, voice scattered into the warmth of his mouth as he tastes me again. My fingers coil themselves around strands of his hair, tugging frantically as my orgasm roots itself in the nest of my stomach and when I feel my brother slam into the loveliest part of me I nearly black out, explicit pleasure swimming through my veins.

“W-wait for me,” he groans, running his tongue along the bruised shell of my bottom lip. My head sinks into my pillow as my brother continues to shamelessly fuck me into the mattress, determined to meet me in the very place in which we were about to depart. The butterflies in my head sound wedding bells and I do my best to stay afloat, waiting to feel my brother’s hand in mine. “Please hurry, Tomi,” I whisper. Another tired push into the shivering bundle of my body makes us both gasp and he droops his head into the heat of my neck, the weight of sensation overpowering him and he peppers my neck in daisy chains of clumsy kisses. “I can see you,” he manages, breath nearly lost against the flush of my skin. He prints his fingers into my flesh the sensation is so enveloping and I fear that he will not make it. I bite my lip, a tiny whine glowing in my throat. “I can see you, too. C-can you f-feel me?” He gasps into my neck, and I can feel his eyes flutter shut as he buries himself deep inside of me. “God, yes. I can feel you. C-can you feel me, Billa?”

I wince my eyes shut, fireworks of raw bliss exploding in my chest and I cry out for him, nails outlining violent road maps on his back. The orgasm begins to unfurl itself, staining my vision into nothing but Tom and I furiously clamp my thighs together, praying that his hand is tucked into mine. “Tomi! I-I’m going…” He clings to me, a withered cry fleeing from his lips as he gladly accepts my confession, messily kissing my jawline as he nods his head, assuring me. “I’m right there,” he breathes, lips grazing mine, love notes humming brilliantly in his chest. _“I’m right fucking there.”_ I feel his hand slip gently into mine and Tom becomes the last thing I see, the beginning and the end, the certainty of his voice the final rest of our symphony and the orgasm sprouts, raining down the sweaty mounds of my flesh in heavy, shuddering storms as my body disappears into a magnetic euphoria, my mind mute against the sheets of my orgasm as I come with a piercing shout, expelling all of the sorrows of our past lives, my chest sprinkled in snow white and I madly grind my hips against his dick, helplessly trying to absorb as much pleasure as possible, as much of Tom as possible. I speak in incoherent tongues, thanking my brother in a broken chord of oh god oh god oh fuck oh god tom oh fuck oh tom tom tom tom

My brother soon follows me, hips stuttering against my ass as his body visibly seizes in an immovable rapture. My name becomes golden on his lips as he comes with a deafening roar, his breath hitching as he marks me yet again, solidifying his love for me in a silk screen of hot white inside of my shaking body. A weak moan of tired joy leaves my lips when I feel Tom release himself inside of me, the butterflies gleefully buzzing in my head as our heart beats call to each other, each string attuned to one another and his hand is still firm in mine, a testament of his devotion. The room of desire has dispersed and the silence that it left behind has never been more divine. As we hold one another, pulses married in the past tense of climax, Tom’s fingers still united with mine, I resign myself to memorizing the haunting resonance of his heart beat, falling deeper and deeper in love with the sound that is so very much like my own.


End file.
